


Get Her A Dog, She'll Be Happier For It

by Nevermore_red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also Post Long Night, An Actual Dog, Assumptions, Jealous!Sansa, Not SanSan Though, Pre-Long Night, Rating for Chapter 2, Sandor Has A Foul Mouth, Sansa Gets A Dog, Sexy Times, She Also Gets The Hound, Some Characters Die, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: Sandor arrives at Winterfell just before leaving once again to fight against the Others. Sansa sees how he and Brienne of Tarth interact. It leaves her unsettled.You know what they say about assumptions.





	1. Chapter 1

There were a hundred other things the Lady of Winterfell could be doing at the moment. Pressing issues, things that needed her signature or her approval. Grain counts and rations and provisions and evacuation plans if the worst were to happen. And they would be seen to. Diligently and properly. Sansa would not fail her people, nor would she shirk her duties. The Lords were already in a state after Jon had come home, with his new Queen. It had taken the rest of the Stark siblings, including Bran, to calm them.

Her cousin, the Old Gods bless him, was not the smartest of men. He had to have known what would happen when he chose to bend the knee to some foreign girl with silver hair and fire breathing beasts. Regardless of his reasons (and they were decent reasons) he had to expect, and understand, the Northernmens distaste for Targaryen's. Perhaps he did, but Sansa did acknowledge the benefit of having, maybe not the girl herself, but the army that followed her and the giant beasts on their side.

At the moment, her mind was not preoccupied by political matters. At the moment, Sansa Stark stood on the ramparts overlooking the training yard. The sounds of blunted swords rang out through the cold air, muted only slightly by the falling snow. From her spot she could just hear heavy breathing interspersed with a heavy grunt or cry. The frozen air around her did little to chill her. She was of the North and the cold was in her blood. Fear, however, curled in her belly and froze her in a way that she thought might never thaw.

Word had come just this morning of Eastwatch. Jon feared for his friends that he'd left behind there, but he had given the order that they would all leave at first light.

Jon would be leaving her again. Arya as well. There was no holding her back, no matter how Jon and Sansa had tried. Brienne would be leaving with them. Sweet Podrick. Kind Ser Davos. Gendry Waters. And Sandor Clegane.

"She is quite an impressive woman." a voice from Sansa's side broke into her observation of the sparing pair below. Sansa spared the shorter sliver haired girl a glance.

"Lady Brienne is unlike any woman, or man, I've ever met." Sansa agreed.

"I hear she defeated her current partner once." Daenerys went on. Sansa felt her jaw tighten, but remained otherwise calm. She wasn't certain of her feelings for the Dragon Queen. Sansa found it annoying to continually hear her numerous titles. She also seemed...vengeful. Sansa got the feeling she wasn't helping out of the goodness of her heart, but for a personal vendetta involving her poor lost dragon. Her continued requests which seemed more like threats for the Lords to bend the knee were also disquieting.

"She bested him." Sansa corrected her, watching as Sandor parried one of Brienne's strikes. "Once. He was already wounded from a previous fight and hadn't been properly nourished for some time. Brienne would not have stood a chance against him otherwise."

Those were Brienne's words herself when she and Sansa had spoken of it when Brienne had returned from Kings Landing. Alongside Sandor Clegane.

"I thought Brienne was a friend of yours?" Daenerys questioned and Sansa inhaled deeply before turning her body to fully face the other woman.

" _Lady_ Brienne is far more than just my friend." Sansa said coolly, irritated at the informal address of her guard. "That does not negate facts, however."

"Of course." Daenerys smiled, though it looked forced. Sansa knew how it tested the woman that Sansa and most of the Northerners wouldn't refer to her as Your Grace. Sansa had no plans of declaring anyone her queen or king until they had proven themselves to her.

After a brief, tense second, Daenerys looked back over the training yard.

"He is a force." she finally said of Sandor. "No wonder he has chosen a woman such as her. I doubt there is another woman in all the world that could stand up to a man like him. They suit each other."

Sansa let her eyes close for just a second, gathering herself. She wanted to rail against Daenerys, to say it was a lie and she was a fool for thinking such things. The only problem was, Sansa saw it too. Ever since they'd both arrived back at Winterfell Sansa had noticed a bond between the two. They matched each other. Sansa had also heard the rumors of how his temporary quarters had not once been slept in and how he'd been seen coming from Brienne's room in the early mornings.

It pained her in a way that confused her at first. Sansa loved Brienne dearly and should be over the moon happy for her that she had found someone. Instead, she felt bitter and wounded. It stung when she saw them speaking together or sparring together. They sat next to each other during meals and generally spent most of their free time together. It took the better part of only two days for Sansa to realize it was because she wished to be in Brienne's position. Sandor Clegane had never been very far from her thoughts ever since he left her in Kings Landing. She thought of him, prayed for him, even dreamt of him. Often times she found herself wishing she would have gone with him that night. It wasn't until he was back that she came to the conclusion that she had feelings for him. Back in Kings Landing she had been drawn to him, but it was mostly because he was the only kindness she found there. She felt safer in his presence. Over the years, as she grew and matured, so had her emotions towards him.

Only, it wasn't to be.

Sansa was about to excuse herself when a young boy came running up to them.

"Lady Stark." he was breathing hard, his eyes flicking to Daenerys. "M'Lady."

"What is it, Tobin?" Sansa asked with a small smile.

"A man has arrived. King Jon sent me to get you." he glanced at Daenerys again. "The both of you."

Daenerys chose to ignore how the boy called Jon King this time, and together they followed him down to the great hall.

The man, it turned out, was Jaime Lannister. He had come with no army, only a small group of men loyal to him. He pled his case to them. Telling them how Cersei had no plans of keeping her promise, though why that should be a shock Sansa didn't know. He said how his loyalty to her no longer meant anything because she no longer did. He wanted to fight with them, against the Others. Daenerys wanted to burn him for what he'd done to her father. Jon wanted him executed for what he had done to Bran. Brienne and Tyrion were the ones who talked them out of such things, reminding them that they needed every able bodied fighter they could find. Thus, the Kingslayer would join forces with the North as an ally. What a time it was.

It became fairly evident rather quickly, as in just mere moments, that he'd also come for Brienne. It was equally as evident that Brienne would have him.

Sansa thought perhaps she would find joy in knowing Brienne and Sandor would no longer be together. She didn't, however. She still felt hurt by Sandor's disinterest in her and his interest in another. Now she also hurt for him, because surely it was unfair to him to be cast aside so quickly.

She found him in the courtyard, near the kennels where he sat on some old hay stacks and was petting a small grey alaunt puppy that was nipping at his fingers.

"She's lucky to be alive." Sansa said to announce her arrival. Sandor paused in his petting, looking up at her and staring at her for a few seconds before turning back to the puppy.

"Aye." he agreed. "A bitch whelping in this coldness is dangerous."

"It is." she agreed. "Our kennelmaster was careful to bring the mother dog into a warmer kennel to birth them. Only two of the six lived, however."

"She's a good pup." he declared, grasping her muzzle with his fingers to open her mouth and examine it. "Black mouth. Means she's smart."

"And very pretty." Sansa added, smiling a little when the puppy shook her head once Sandor had let her mouth go before jumping right back into his hands and teething his fingers once more.

"Smart and pretty." Sandor snorted, scratching at the puppies spine. "Suits you, then. You should take the little bitch inside with you. Make her your guard dog."

Sansa actually had plans to do so once the pup was old enough to leave her mother, which would only be another week, the kennelmaster said. In fact, she'd already named her Lady Bird. His unexpected compliment threw her off and she wasn't sure how to respond for a moment.

"I'm sorry about the arrival of Ser Jaime." she finally said. Sandor looked at her curiously, hefting the pup up and holding her to his chest while she lapped at his bearded chin.

"Doesn't bother me." he shrugged. "I'd say his presence would be more bothersome to you. I don't much care for the link back to the Lannister's, but I also don't give a shit."

"Oh." she realized he thought she meant that it would remind him of his time in Kings Landing when in fact she hadn't even thought of such a thing. "No. I meant that it's obvious that he and Lady Brienne have...feelings for each other."

"Do they?" he snorted and shook his head. "What is it about that big bitch?"

"Excuse me?" she questioned sternly with a raised brow. He might be hurt, but she would not stand for him to talk of Brienne in such a way.

"That ginger wildling was head over for the woman as well." he chuckled in amusement. "Poor bastard. If he lived through that Wall falling, he'll be devastated to realize he doesn't stand a fucking chance." Confused at his amusement and his lack of, well, hurt over it all, Sansa simply stared at him for a moment.

"I don't understand." she finally said. "It doesn't bother you that Tormund wanted Brienne? Nor does it bother you that Ser Jaime does as well, and that she returns that sentiment?"

"Why should I care which cunt wants who?" he scoffed before standing, still cradling Lady Bird in one large hand. "None of my bloody business."

"But she and you..." Sansa trailed off when Sandor suddenly barked a laugh, causing Lady Bird to wag her tail happily and bark back.

"She and I?" he laughed again. "What in the seven hells gave you that idea, girl?"

"You're always together." Sansa snapped quickly, offended by his laughter and his condescending tone. "You eat together. Drink together. Spar together. People have spoken of how you've shared her rooms."

The amusement cleared from his face and he simply looked irritated. "Bloody gossiping girls, the lot of them. Aye, I've shared her rooms. Never her bed. She's still the buggering Maid of Tarth. I never had any plans, nor desire, to change that."

"Still," Sansa nearly whispered. "You were with her in other ways..."

"I was with her in no fucking way." he cut her off. "Ever. The room given to me was small. The bed sat too close to the damned fire for comfort. I never slept there. Brienne found me one night in the armory where I'd been freezing my balls off trying to sleep. She offered her room without asking too many bloody questions. I slept on a bedroll on the floor."

"Oh." was all Sansa could say. That sounded just like Brienne. Kind to a fault, giving without judgement. It was her very best quality.

"What does any of this matter to you anyway, girl?" he finally asked, leaning over the kennel window to replace Lady Bird with her mother.

"I'm not a girl." Sansa said quickly. "I haven't been for a very long time. It's Lady Stark now."

"Aye." he leaned back against the wall, eyeing her from the toes up. "What of it all, then, Lady Stark?"

"I was concerned your feelings would be hurt."

Sandor scoffed loudly at that. " _Feelings_. Brienne of Tarth can't hurt my feelings, Little Bird. Why are my _feelings_ of any consequence to you?"

"Because." she paused, thinking. He was leaving come morning. There was no telling when he would return, if ever. This very well might be their last time speaking to one another.

"Because your feelings matter to me, Sandor Clegane." she took a step towards him and placed her hand on his upper arm. It occurred to her that outside Jon and Bran, and Theon while they were running, it was the first time she had touched a man since Ramsay. " _You_ matter to me. Very much."

His eyes widened and his body went stiff. He searched her face, trying to find the lie, trying to detect the deceit. He would find none.

"Stay safe during the fighting, Clegane." she said firmly. "You are to stay alive. You are to return here, to Winterfell. To me. Is that understood?"

A small grin lifted the good corner of his mouth. "Aye, Lady Stark." He lifted his hand, thumb ghosting over her chin. "It's understood."


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor came to her that night, just hours before he was set to leave. Sansa was already awake, staring out the window at the heavily falling snow wondering how long she would be left alone this time. He was fully dressed, armor included. She ushered him in without word. He asked for clarification on what she'd said earlier.

"I want you, Sandor." she said plainly. They had so little time to be coy or shy. "Seeing you with Brienne, thinking the two of you..." she stopped and shook her head. "I want you to come back to Winterfell, to me, and I want you to stay. With me. Forever."

Sandor had paced in silence after her words pulling off his gauntlets, vambrace, couter, and rerebrace as he went, dropping them on her table as he passed.

"Forever." he repeated, stopping to look at her, the flames from the fire casting deeper shadows along his scars. It made him look gaunt and haunting. "You, what? Want me to marry you?"

"I needn't marry." Sansa shrugged. "I am the Lady of Winterfell. I don't need the backing of any strong name. My name is strong enough all on it's own. I wouldn't be opposed to marriage, not to you, if it was something you want. I only want you, Sandor. I want the comfort and safety and happiness I feel whenever you are near me."

Sandor stood, silent and looking a bit shocked, breathing hard with hands on his hips.

"Aye." he finally said. "You can have me."

Sansa helped him remove the rest of his armor. The two of them didn't speak while she stoked the fire and removed her dressing robe. They got into her bed, laying on their sides and facing each other. Sansa reached for his hands and pulled them between their bodies in the small space left between them. Neither of them slept. Neither of them talked. They were just together, for the short amount of time they had left.

~

Over the next year, Sansa called on every ounce of inner strength and leadership she didn't even know she possessed. Her days were long and busy, even if they were just as dark as the nights. Her fingers turned raw and then calloused from sewing and stitching, repairing and making clothes and cloaks to send to the front lines. She managed the rations for the people that had taken refuge in Winterfell. She saw to their comfort and she saw that they were all given jobs and tasks. There was no time for idleness here. She saw that provisions were sent to the fighters, weapons and food and clothing. Anything they could spare.

It was tiresome. And lonely. Lady Bird made it better. Sansa had brought the puppy inside with her the day after the soldiers left. She was always by Sansa side. She was smart, like Sandor had said, and fiercely protective of Sansa. She grew big, though not as big as any direwolf ever would. It didn't matter to Sansa. She loved Lady Bird dearly.

What free time she managed was spent writing letters. She wrote to Jon and Arya. She wrote to Brienne and even occasionally to Ser Davos. Mostly, she wrote to Sandor. He wrote her as well. The letters didn't come frequently, but she cherished each one. During her short time in bed, she would reread the latest letter out loud to Lady Bird as she did all her letters. Lady Bird seemed more intent and alert when she read Sandor's letters, though. Perhaps she picked up on Sansa's own excitement.

Six moons passed like that before the relative ease came to an end. The Others were advancing quickly. Ser Davos and a few riders showed up one morning and by that evening, the evacuation had begun. The journey to Riverrun was hard and long, but once they were there, Lady Roslin Tully greeted them and welcomed them in. Ser Jaime had released her uncle Edmure from his imprisonment on Casterly Rock and Edmure sent his wife and child back to Riverrun while he joined the forces against the Others. Life was much the same at Riverrun, though now Sansa shared the duties with Roslin.

Sansa still ached and worried. She still felt scared and lonely. The Long Night was lasting longer than she'd imagined. Sandor's letters had also ceased, as had any letters at all. With the constant hard snow and the harshness of the weather, ravens could hardly make travel. Bran's visions came in handy during that time. He claimed the future was becoming harder to see. It wasn't set in stone, but a flexible and moveable thing. He could see when someone was lost, though. He informed Sansa when anyone of consequence to her died or was injured. He told her when Jorah Mormont died saving Daenerys. He told her when Beric Dondarian gave his final life saving Sandor. He told her when Arya had lost three fingers. When Theon Greyjoy threw himself in front of a weights spear meant for Jon Snow. That Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime had one of the Maesters marry them in the midst of battle. How Daenerys grew heavy with her nephews child. Sansa knew to expect Missandi and the newborn babe and Sansa poured her heart and soul into loving the tiny boy with his silver hair and dark grey eyes. Edryc Targaryen, whom she called Ned in the whispered quiet as the snow raged outside.

It was the same day that Bran announced to her that Daenerys had been killed that he also declared that the war was over. Jon had succeeded. The Night King had been killed. They were to travel back to Winterfell. They left that evening. The bulk of the fighting force was already at Winterfell when they arrived. Some had already left, heading back to rebuild their homes and mourn their losses. Jon told them to rest. To regroup and strengthen. There was still a battle to be fought to the South, but time and rest were needed the most now.

Sansa barely had time to pass sweet baby Edryc to his father before she was swept off her feet. It was Sandor, of course. Her eyes had immediately found him the moment they came through the broken gates of Winterfell. He kissed her there, deeply and a bit roughly, in front of everyone without a single care in the world. Sansa heard a few startled gasps and whispers, but mostly there was little shock. The last year had numbed most to any sort of shock. Ignoring those around them, Sansa grasped hold of the back of his hair with her gloved hands. She held him tightly, kissed him back just as desperately, not even caring how their teeth clacked or he bit her lip just a hair too hard. Eventually he pulled away, but he didn't release his hold on her. Lady Bird paced anxiously at his feet with quiet whimpers and the occasional butt of her head against his leg.

"I see the bitch missed me." Sandor mumbled against her mouth and Sansa smiled for the first time in a year.

"I do hope you're speaking of Lady Bird." she leaned back and gave him a stern look with a raised brow.

Sandor chuckled, a rough rasp. "Of course, Lady Stark."

"This is all highly improper." she teased. "The Lady of Winterfell being handled in such a way in public."

"I'm an improper man, Little Bird." he kissed her mouth once again. "I'll teach you all manner of filthy things. In private, if it helps your ladylike sensibilities."

"Do you not plan to court me at all, Ser?" Sansa asked, only teasing a little. She had known, as she always had, that he was not and never would be a courtly gentleman. She had thought she would at least get a little wooing.

"I'll court you if you tell me how." he lowered her until her feet touched the ground, one arm still round her waist. "But not right now. Right now I'm fucking tired. And hungry. 'Sides, I can't remember the last time I had a proper bath or a shave."

After greeting Jon and Arya properly, they all made their way inside Winterfell. Thankfully it had withstood the war quite well and only needed minor repairs. The Bolton's had done more damage. Sandor left them in the Great Hall, to go find some food before he went to bathe. Sansa had whispered into his ear for him to meet her in her chambers once he was finished. Sansa stayed in the Great Hall for longer than she truly wanted. She had missed Jon and Arya, however, and it was good to be with them once again. It made her heart swell with both sadness and joy to see Jon reunite with Edryc. Sansa may not have come to any decision regarding her feelings for the Dragon Queen, but Jon had loved her and a child growing up without it's mother was sad.

Jon was the one that ended their reunion, stating he was exhausted and would like to spend some one on one time with his son. Arya, silently with a single nod of her head towards Sansa, slipped out of the hall with Gendry on her heels. Lifting her skirts, Sansa hurried up to her chambers, a flickering candle in her hand. When she threw open the door, she found Sandor sitting at her table, a flagon in front of him and wearing only a loose tunic and unlaced breeches. His hair was longer than it had been, going past his shoulders now. It shined with wetness in the light of the fire. Lady Bird lay curled at his feet.

"You came back." she whispered after a moment passed where they just looked at one another. Sandor dropped his eyes from hers, lifting his goblet and finishing off the wine that was inside of it.

"Aye. The Lady of Winterfell demanded it of me. I'm good at following orders."

"I've noticed." she smiled softly. "I'm so very happy you're here."

"Are you?" he questioned before standing up. Lady Bird surged to her feet as well.

"Of course." Sansa took a step towards him and Lady Bird came to stand at her side, tail wagging. "I thought I was quite clear about that before."

Sandor was silent for a moment, rubbing his mouth with one palm as he moved around the table and leaned back against the edge, arms crossed over his chest. It pulled his clothing taunt across him, making him appear all the larger.

"You want me?" he asked, pulling Sansa's attention away from his body and back to his face. There was a smirk there, a teasing glint in his eye. Lady Birds head butted the backs of Sansa's legs, forcing her to step forward.

"I do." she breathed, then let her eyes fall closed for a moment. "When I was a naïve little girl, I once wanted a boy. After him, all I ever wanted was to survive." she opened her eyes to look at him. "Never once have I ever wanted a man. Most definitely not either of my husbands. But I want you, Sandor. I've always wanted you in some way. For protection. For safety. For guidance. Now, though. Now I want you as a woman wants a man." Sandor uncrossed his arms, bracing his hands on either side of his hips on the table.

"Then you'll have me."

"What of you?" she asked, moving until there was only a foot or so between them. "What do you want?"

"You." he said without hesitation, as if it were the most simple and obvious thing in the world.

Sansa smiled to herself as she reached for the laces at the bodice of her dress and began untying them. When they were loose, she pulled her arms free of the garment and shrugged it off before meeting his gaze once again. Her shift did little to shield her from the chill in the room.

"Then you'll have me." she reused his words and a brief smile flashed across his face before he stood from the table. He stripped off his tunic easily, tossing it onto the table behind him. Sansa's stomach flipped pleasantly, but an unexpected nervousness had her hands trembling. Sandor stretched out an arm, hand resting on the dip of her waist before he pulled her into him.

"Go slow, please." she whispered in a shaky voice, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "And...and be gentle."

"Look at me, Sansa." he grasped her chin in her hand and lifted her face to his. "I'm not your bastard husband. I don't want your pain. I want your pleasure."

Sansa was skeptical if there was pleasure in bedroom relations for women, but she knew in her heart that Sandor would never hurt her even though he possessed more ability to do so than any person she'd ever met, save perhaps his brother.

With his arm still round her waist, Sandor gently guided her towards her bed. A maid had been in here recently and the bed was covered in fresh linens. They were cool on her skin as Sandor laid her down, but then his body was there to warm her, his kiss there to heat her blood. Sansa wrapped herself around him, pulling him closer and letting him deepen the kiss. They neither one had very much practice with the act, but instinct and passion guided them. His lips left hers, trailing wetly down her cheek and jaw to her neck. His hands skimmed up her calves and over her knees, pulling the shift up as he went.

"Sit up." he instructed as he himself sat up on his knees. "I want this off." he tugged again at the shift. Sansa felt her throat tighten and her eyes stung.

"I'm...I'm not as beautiful as I once was. Ramsay made certain of that."

"Scars." he scoffed. "I can promise you, Little Bird, I could give fuck all about your scars. I only wish the bastard cunt was still alive for me to give him a few of his own."

"His death wasn't quick." she lifted a hand to touch his face. "I made certain of that."

A twisted, evil little smirk curved his harsh mouth and it gave Sansa a perverse sense of satisfaction that she had managed to make him proud of her.

So she sat up and let him remove the shift. She closed her eyes once she lay back down, smiling up at the ceiling as his mouth and tongue soothed over the marks on her flesh. The lower his mouth moved, the quicker her breath became. An ache was building inside of her. A wonderful ache.

"Sandor." she whispered his name, back arching off the feather mattress as his tongue drew up her stomach before latching onto one nipple. "Sandor." Sansa hadn't realized she was trembling until Sandor laid his cheek between her breasts and flattened one palm on her belly.

"Easy, Little Bird." he rasped into her skin. "It's alright."

"Please." she ran her fingers into his hair, looking down at the top of his head until he looked up at her. "Please don't stop."

This time he didn't. His touch consumed her as he mapped every inch of her body. She hesitated only a second when he guided her hips upwards so he could remove her smallclothes. Her mind only flashed back to those times of horror once, when Sandor rolled her onto her belly. It was the only way Ramsay had ever taken her.

"Every single fucking inch of you." Sandor's rough voice brought her back to the present, her fear receding as she was reminded of who she was with. "Fuck all the made up gods." his uneven lips smoothed up the length of her spine. "This is where I'll worship."

"Sandor." she meant to scold him, but lost her thoughts when his tongue reversed the journey and he gently bit at the top of her bottom. He was gone from her then and Sansa frantically looked over her shoulder, needing the reminder of him so she didn't slip back into the past. Her mouth fell open as she watched him push his trousers past his hips before kicking them completely off. He wore nothing else and even though he was just as intimidating here as he was everywhere else, Sansa felt no fear. The trust she had for Sandor outweighed everything else.

Once he was as naked as she, he came back to her, finishing the job of covering her skin in kisses, licks, and nips. When he reached her feet, he lifted one as he sat up on his knees, his thumb digging deliciously into her arch before he drew her toe into his mouth. It shocked her, something she hadn't known men would do, and it felt wonderful. So many sensations emerging from there and causing her skin to tingle.

"Roll over." he instructed, urging her onto her back. Once she was laying flat, he startled her again by putting his head between her thighs.

"Oh..." she shot up on her elbows to watch him. He didn't stop licking at her, but his eyes did flick to hers, waiting for her to ask him to stop. She should. It was highly improper. But, then again, Sandor was highly improper. And he'd told her he would show her all manner of filthy things. Perhaps this was one of them.

It felt lovely, what he was doing. Almost soothing, yet it intensified the ache inside of her. Sansa relaxed into it, gasping only once when he pushed a finger inside of her. He found something with his tongue after a moment, a place that caused her eyes to roll back in her head and a loud moan to tear from her throat.

Suddenly Sandor was laying over her, his face near her own. "I can't wait." he very nearly growled. "I got to be inside you."

And then he was. Sansa cried out at the feeling, clutching him to her. He whispered harshly into her ear words she couldn't quite make out as he started to thrust inside of her. Her mind was too swamped with sensation. That ache, that near painful ache inside of her was drawing her entire being tight as a drum and all she wanted was to be closer to him. To feel him move harder inside of her so that he might break the drum and set her free of the ache.

Sansa urged him to move harder by pushing her heels into the backs of his thighs, her fingers digging painfully into the flexing muscles of his back. She found if she let out the noises her body wanted to make instead of holding them in, Sandor would move faster.

"Oh fucking..." he trailed off on a low rumbling moan that sent a shiver through her belly. "Squeeze me tight, girl. Just like that."

Sansa's body tightened on it's own and a broken noise, something that sounded almost like a sob, almost like a cough, tore from Sandor's throat. He pushed in deep, but kept rocking his hips as his big body quaked and that was it. Everything broke and a pleasure so intense it was near blinding tore through her. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. What came out was a bit of both.

"Fuck me." he breathed a moment later, pushing up on his elbows so he could look down at her. "Was that real or did Petyr teach you how to fake it?"

"Petyr taught me nothing about what just happened." she said in a hoarse voice. "I'm not even sure what just happened."

Sandor smirked, then kissed her forehead before rolling off of her onto his side. "We fucked, Lady Stark. And if I didn't miss my guess, you thoroughly enjoyed being fucked."

"I did." Sansa sighed, uncaring that he spoke so harshly. "Is that how it's supposed to be for women?"

"I wouldn't know." he shifted a little and moved his head so he was looking at her. "Whores always faked it until I told them to stop. I never put much attention into getting them off."

"You've only ever been with working women?"

Sandor snorted at that. "A servant girl here and there."

Sansa looked away from his eyes, looking instead at the matting of black hair that covered his chest.

"Any serving girl from Winterfell?" she asked before she could stop herself. "Only, I wouldn't want to unknowingly say something to one of the girls when..."

"Stop." he cut her off, rolling onto his side so he was facing her. "I haven't fucked anything other than my own bloody hand since I joined up with the Brotherhood."

"Oh." she couldn't help but smile in relief. "That's...good."

"You're a jealous little bird, you know that?" he teased.

"I am not." she glared at him.

"You are." he countered with his good brow raised. "No need to be embarrassed about it. I like it." his hand came up to push the hair away from her forehead. "No ones ever been jealous over me before."

"Well." she leaned into his touch. "I don't enjoy it, so please don't try to make me jealous again."

"Until you accept the hand of one of these newly war hardened lords?"

Sansa smiled, enjoying the fact she wasn't the only one that had jealous tendencies. "I'll not be accepting any Lords hand." she informed him. "I told you once, I don't need a strategic marriage. I won't marry again unless it's a proposal from a man I wish to be wed to."

"Is there a man you wish to be wed to?" he asked hesitantly.

"There is." she shifted closer to him so they were pressed against one another. "But if you do not wish to be married, I am happy to just have you by my side forever."

Sandor said nothing to that, just hugged her tighter for a moment. The both of them got up after that and cleaned up. Sansa pulled on a nightshift and Sandor put his breeches back on. Once they laid back down, Sansa pillowed her head on Sandor's chest and enjoyed the quiet peacefulness.

"You've got to know by now, Sansa. You aren't the same naïve girl you once were." he said, breaking the silence.

"Know what?" she mumbled, half asleep.

"I'll do any fucking thing for you, girl." he pressed his mouth into her hair. "You've owned this bloody dog for a long time now."

Sansa opened her eyes, finding Lady Bird laying asleep by the fire. She smiled, knowing that the dog normally slept in the bed next to her. Now she had another dog for that. She couldn't be happier.

"I'll do my best to be a good owner, then." she teased before kissing his chest.


End file.
